


Little Bird Heart

by aebirdie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied Smut, M/M, McDonald's, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 20:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aebirdie/pseuds/aebirdie
Summary: Finally,finally, Stiles gets what he wants. Who he wants.





	Little Bird Heart

When Stiles had stepped out of the baggage claim, his dad was there with one of those cheesy signs and a bag of cheetos.

“Dad, the cheetos, really?” Stiles said.

“Not for me, kiddo. For you.” John hugged his son close. It had been a long time since they had seen one another, since Stiles’ professor had offered him the chance to tag along on some crime scene investigations. It had been a thrilling experience, but Stiles was happy to be home.

“How’s Beacon Hills been?” Stiles asked, digging into the bag of cheap food. “Lonely without me?”

The Sheriff chuckled. “It’s been quiet. No werewolf drama.”

“And Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice wavering.

“He’s still in town. A deputy now,” John said. “He’s really turned himself around.”

They climbed into the car, Stiles throwing away the empty bag on the way to the parking lot.

“You know, Stiles, it’s okay if he doesn’t love you back,” John said.

“Dad, you don’t have too,” Stiles said, putting in his earbuds. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

John looked at his son worriedly, but didn’t pester Stiles.

*  
It starts out like this: Stiles gets a job at McDonalds, and Derek comes through the drive through on his first shift. Why Derek would ever eat crappy fast food is a mystery to Stiles, but the gruff voice and scruffy face is staring him back through the order window is unmistakable. Stiles hands him the bag. It’s the wrong order, and Stiles knows this, but he wants to see Derek. Wants to talk to Derek again.

Derek comes into the restaurant, his eyes smiling but his mouth not.

“I got someone else’s food,” he calls out.

“New guy, deal with it,” barks the seventeen-year-old manager. Stiles adjusts the hat and grabs the right bag, and prepares himself to hand it over.

“Can you get off early?” Derek asks.

Stiles nearly clears the counter, he’s so eager. “My dad’s not home,” Stiles breathes.

“Get in the car, Stiles,” Derek tells him. Stiles waves goodbye to the manager and quickly changes into his street clothes in the tiny staff bathroom.

The car ride is full of impatience, of stolen looks and hidden smiles. Derek leaves the bag of food in his car, and Stiles knows it will stink up the Camaro. They run up to Stiles’ room, and Derek has his hands groping at Stiles’ shirt before he can shut the door.

“Get on the bed, please, Stiles,” Derek huffs.

*  
“That,” Derek breathed out, “was stupid.” Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket onto his side of the bed. Technically, it was his bed. They were all his sides. It was all his bed. 

“You said that the last time,” Stiles huffed. “And the time before that.” He laid back down and pretended to think. “Oh, and three days before. And the day before that. And the-”

Derek groaned. “I get it, jeez.”

“Then why?” Stiles asked. He pretended to not be hurt by what Derek had said, but it was hard. He had been in love with Derek since he was 16, and finally, _finally_ , Stiles had worked up the courage to ask him out, after his first year of college. 

Derek had said _no, but thanks_.

Stiles came back from the second year at NYC and Derek had jumped his bones. Personally, Stiles felt like one of those birds balancing on the crocodile's teeth, picking out morsels. He knew that Derek could snap and break his little bird heart with his big crocodile jaws. 

Derek sighed. “I just… I just feel like-” Derek chose to not finish his sentence but stand up and put his clothes on.

“Feel like what, Derek?” Stiles yelled as Derek climbed out the window.

“Not. Fucking. Again,” Stiles whispered to himself. 

He rolled off the bed and onto the floor. It wasn’t majestic like in a trashy YA novel, it was a tired flop onto a dirty, clothes-covered floor that reeked of sweat and a feral wolf smell, like Derek had peed on the floor to mark his territory. 

The room was dark. It should be-it meant that the most recent “love bites” Derek had left didn’t mean Stiles has wolf-powers. Three am, and Stiles was all alone. 

He picked up the phone and called Scott. Scott, bless his soul, picked up the phone after the first three rings. 

But the more Stiles thought about it, there was definitely a reason Scott was up. A reason Stiles didn’t particularly want to know. 

“Hey,” Stiles mumbled, half into his phone, half into his pillow. The pillow, like all of the other things in his room, reeked of Derek.

“Hey.” Scott was giggling. Stiles really didn’t want to know what Scott, and a horny, horny Isaac, were up too.

“Are you busy?” Stiles asked. Stiles heard a muffled _we are!_ , lots of laughing, and a stifled gasp. 

He really, really did not want to know.

“Anyways,”  
stiles continued, “Derek left, like always, and now I have to listen to you two do it. I’m going to hang up now. TTYL, Ciao, Vale, Good-bye.”

“Bye!” came Isaac’s muffled call.

“Bye,” Stiles sighed. 

He shut off the phone.

*

McDonald’s was crowded. Stiles adjusted his hat, and smiled at the next customers, a woman and her two sons. They ordered something Stiles immediately forgot after he printed out the receipt. 

The next girl ordered one of those off-brand frap things they sell now. It sounds disgusting.

The woman opens her mouth again, and Stiles wants to shoot himself in the face. She’s so happy and perky.

“Can you write ‘Derek Hale’ on the cup?” The woman asks. “It’s our thing.”

“Derek Hale.” Stiles nods and writes it down. His voice is high, and his words come off as questions. And, oh God, he has questions. Who is this woman, why is Derek cheating on her, does he love her, does she love him.

Was Stiles ever important to Derek?

Probably not, if Stiles really thought about it.

Stilis’ little bird heart was broken. Shattered by crocodile jaws.

Stiles passed off the cup and she moved into the pick-up line. A new family moved up, and Stiles’ eyes flicked up to the woman again. She was pretty, and smiling down at her phone like it was the center of her universe.

Stiles’ stomach dropped to the floor.

The woman was what Lydia would have called “the werewolf type”-strong, confident, hot. She seemed like everything Stiles wasn’t and everything that had tore him from Derek over the years. It hurt, physically hurt, to look at her.

She was like this constant reminder that Stiles wasn’t good enough for Derek.

Someone filled in for Stiles-some eager new guy desperate to prove himself. He left work early, his notice filled out. It felt good, to finally quit freaking _McDonald’s_. It was the worst job ever, and customers that rubbed their cheating boyfriends in his face didn’t make it better.

Stiles went home, and laid down in his bed. Even with zero werewolf senses, Stiles could smell Derek on his bedsheets. His sweat, the sex they had. It was all so surreal that Stiles could almost hear it.

He laid down, shut his eyes, and when he woke up, it was 12:43 and Derek was knocking on the window. Stiles hesitated for a few moments, wondering if he should let him in. In the end, though, he let him in. He always ended up letting Derek in, even when Stiles knew that Derek didn’t want him.

“Derek,” Stiles said. Derek’s hair was mussed, like he had just been with the girlfriend Stiles didn’t know about.

Derek leaned in to kiss him, but Stiles pulled back. “We need to talk, Derek.” Stiles must have sounded harsh. He felt mean, like somehow, this was all his fault.

“Why?” Derek asked. His eyes flashed. Stiles sat down on his bed again, and patted the space next to him. Derek sat down hesitantly, like Stiles had asked him to sit in the fireplace and burn his ass off.

“Do you love her?” Stiles asked, because he is hurting and scared and needs a direct answer, not quick sex.

Derek growled, like it was a full moon and Stiles had just ticked him off. “How did you find out?”

“She came into work, and _asked me to write your name on a coffee cup_ ,” Stiles hissed. “I cannot believe you, Derek. How could you do this to her? She deserves better, Derek. I deserve better.”

“Well, I wasn’t cheating on you, Stiles. We aren’t together,” Derek pointed out.

“Wow, Derek. Thanks for pointing that out,” Stiles sneered. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“You don’t have to be such an ass, Stiles,” Derek said as he got up from the bed.

“I’m not the one who cheated!” Stiles shouted.

“Why is so important to you?” Derek yelled back.

“Because, dimwit, I’m fucking in love with you!” Stiles bellowed, standing up as he did so. “Should I say it again? I’m in love! With you, shithead!”

Derek grabbed Stiles and shoved him onto the bed, laying on top of him. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Derek panted. “This could have happened months ago.”

“I tried,” Stiles breathed out. The girl flashed back into his mind, and he cleared his throat. “If you’re going to be with me, you have to break up with her.”

Derek nodded and bit his lip, then chastely kissed Stiles on the nose. “I’ll be right back.” Derek pushed up-god, everything he did was a turn on-and jumped out the window.

He was back in thirty minutes, his eyes wide. Today, Derek wasn’t looking for a quick fuck, just something to do before work or seeing someone else. This time, Stiles was _his_. He wanted to make love, not do him and run off. He wanted to cuddle, like he had wanted to do since Stiles had come back. Derek had been planning to ask him out, but after that first time, Derek had run away. Like a dumbass.

Derek climbed back into bed, lying down with Stiles for a while. Derek reached out, stroking Stiles’ cheekbone and feeling the patterns of the moles peppering his skin.

“Do you…” Stiles said quietly.

“I love you,” Derek assured him. “Always.”

“That’s really cheesy, Der,” Stiles mumbled. His pretty eyes met Derek’s, and they both grinned.


End file.
